Chapter 1 – Love at First Sight: From Stranger to Soulmate

“I’m telling you, if you want to win this thing—and I mean win it in a landslide—you need to up your public appeal,” Billy announced, spreading his hands wide as if giving a headline. “News Bulletin: Vincent Cunningham running for Congress swept away in love, Marries local Texas Girl. Huh? Come on, you know that sounds amazing.”

Vincent rested his chin on his hand, his elbow on the surface of his freshly polished wooden desk, and cringed. “A wife?”

“We’ve talked about this, man.” Billy sighed as his arms fell to his sides. “The whole bachelor thing might be fun, but it’s just bad news once you get into politics.”

“But a wife? Is that really necessary?”

“What else is going to stop you from going out every other night, partying, and bringing home strange women? Eventually, the tabloids will notice that shit. But,” Billy said, holding up his finger, “if you can change that lifestyle now and become a family man, the public will be more than ready to receive you come next year.”

Vincent rubbed his eyes hard. “Is that right?”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know what I’m talking about.”

Vince laughed harshly. “You’ve been doing this for five years, and by the way, the last man’s campaign you worked on backfired horribly.”

Billy rolled his shoulders and his always too cheery smile faltered. “Then why did you hire me?”

“Because you’re a friend and I didn’t trust any other shark with my personal life.”

Billy’s smile widened and he clapped Vincent on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

“I never said I was agreeing to this nonsense.”

“But you should.” A woman’s voice drifted over from the couch in Vincent’s office. His mother, Doris, lifted her cup of coffee, sipping it as elegantly as if it were a glass of high-class champagne. “He’s right. It’s high time you settled down and started a family. I am not getting any younger, son, and grandchildren would keep me busy.”

Vincent spun in his chair to face Doris, her white hair pulled back in a tight bun and hardly any wrinkles on her face from all the damn creams she used to look young and perfect in case anyone snapped her photo. She might not be in politics anymore, but she was the wife of the late congressman Liam Cunningham, Vincent’s father. Everyone in Texas expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps. He had died three years ago from lung cancer—he had smoked a pack a day, plus cigars—and Vincent was still partially in mourning. His mother told the world she was fine, but he knew she went home every night to an empty house and drank. Liam had been her world, and now all she had was Vincent. Her disappointment in his lack of enthusiasm for entering the political arena had been evident for the last three years before he finally broke down and said he would do it, if only to get that annoyed look out of her eyes.

“How exactly do either of you expect me to find a wife?” he asked, dragging himself back to the current predicament. “I can’t simply walk up to some woman on the street and propose.”

“Like how you get them into your bed?” Doris said lightly, and Billy choked on his laughter.

Vincent sucked in his lips and shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to talk about my personal life with you around.”

“It’s just sex, Vincent, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she told him curtly, but her cheeks reddened and she crossed her legs rather tightly.

Vincent watched her lips quirk in a grin before it hit him. “Seriously? Mother!”

“What? I have needs too, you know, and with your father gone, what am I supposed to do? Let my lady bits just wither away? Don’t worry, it’s only a few of your father’s old friends. They’re widowers, too.”

Vincent’s eyes bulged as Billy’s chortling echoed around his office. “We are not having this conversation. Jesus, Mom.”

She lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug and continued sipping her coffee. “But he is right, you know. You need a wife. It will really help your campaign, especially if said wife is pregnant. Everyone loves a baby.”

Except me, Vincent thought, giving himself a shake. He’d dated plenty of women in his twenties, but none of them had been a good fit. They were either after the Cunningham wealth, too shallow, cheated on him, or bored him to death. None of them were what he looked for. Hell, he spent so much time with the wrong women, finding the right one didn’t seemed possible. He simply settled for whichever women he picked up at the local clubs and took home for a night. Well, hotels, actually. He had learned his lesson after one woman tried to steal from his safe at home. He was a platinum tier rewards member at the local Ritz because of how often he stayed there with company.

Having a wife was pushing it, in his opinion. He was used to being a loner, but a baby? Out of the question. He had never wanted kids. Doris’ idea was for him to pop out a horde of grandkids for her to spoil. Vincent doubted he would make a good dad, mostly because of the man he would have to live up to.

“I had a feeling this would come up at some point, so I’ve been doing some research.” Billy trotted over to his briefcase on the table near the window and pulled out a binder.

“What the hell is that?”

“Let the man talk. Billy, are those profiles of women?” Doris asked excitedly.

“Ah, Doris, always a woman on top of her game.” He smirked at his own pun, and Doris buried her smile behind her teacup. “Not profiles, but there is a way for him to find one within a decent amount of time.”

“A decent amount of time being?” Doris asked, leaning closer.

“A week, two tops. Married and all in only two weeks.” The binder fell with a resounding thud on Vincent’s desk, and he stared at it as if it might jump up and bite his face off. “Go on, check it out.”

“I’m not sure about this,” he muttered as his fingers hesitated.

“I spent months researching this program. It’s run by a major company with involvement in several different dating websites, studies, and basically the industry of romance,” Billy explained. “They’re legit, as are the women and men involved in their newest program. You could be one of the first to gain a wife from it.”

“Are we sure me picking a wife will look good?” he asked, desperate for a way out of this situation. “For the campaign, I mean? I’m not sure people will trust a politician who can’t even woo the love of his life.”

Billy waved his hand. “It can be arranged that no one outside of this room will know. The company has an iron-clad agreement with all involved not to say how they actually met if that is what the client—what you—wish.”

“Okay, what do I tell people about how we met?”

“You find your dream wife and you make up some romantic story or other with her. Come on, Vinnie, you’ve got a romantic bone somewhere in your body. Use it.”

Vincent did not have a romantic bone in his body and had been told so by several women before they ran out the door, clutching their clothes to their chests as he kicked them out of his hotel room. He made it quite clear every time he wasn’t looking for anything steady, just a simple romp in bed. What was he supposed to do if they decided it meant he wanted to date them? Kicking them out before things got awkward was the best policy. Realizing Billy and his mother weren’t going to leave him alone until he at least looked at the program, he slid the binder towards him and opened the front cover. The title popped out at him in dark red letters outlined in black with two hearts beneath it, bound by a set of wedding rings: Married at First Sight.

“Really? You’re joking, right? I can’t even see the woman I’m going to marry?” he asked, tapping the title, annoyed.

“Of course you can. It’s more of a ‘you don’t really have a lot of time to get to know them.’”

“That makes complete sense,” he told Billy, nodding his head calmly.

“It does?” Billy asked frowning.

“No, you idiot! What if I pick some psycho woman who wants to murder me in my sleep and take all my money?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Doris scolded and walked over to lean against his shoulder. “Open it, come on then. If you don’t, I’ll simply sign up for you behind your back like any good mother would do.”

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